


Entomophilia

by Waolll



Series: rarepair hell headcanons [1]
Category: VALORANT (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Cypher Is A Creep, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Romanticising creep behaviour, Surveillance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waolll/pseuds/Waolll
Summary: Sova keeps finding bugs stashed on his person. He doesn’t mind them as much as he should.
Relationships: Cypher/Sova (VALORANT)
Series: rarepair hell headcanons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202027
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Entomophilia

He finds a bug hidden in the cuff of his cloak, practically invisible between the texture of the fur and the overhang of the fabric. It is half the size of his thumbnail, and when he picks it out of the fabric it makes a sad whirring sound as it presumably self-destructs.

It is made of thin aluminum. Pale blue light peeks from between the cracks of the metal. It is unmistakably Cypher’s.

He crushes it between his fingers.

* * *

He returns from a mission thoroughly unnerved. The memory of the clone—his own face—staring at him through a viewfinder burnt into the back of his eyelids. It had been intelligent; it looked like him, walked like him, _fought_ like him. They had been functionally identical right up until the moment he planted a bullet in its knock-off augmented eye.

He would be worried about the potential for foul play if not for the absolute hostility that they faithfully demonstrate in each encounter.

The trip home is long and by the time he is disembarking the aircraft he is more than ready to shower and pass out. He ignores the other agents as he wanders half-asleep to his room. It is only when he collapses onto his bed still fully dressed that he feels something pressing against his hamstring. It is tiny, most likely a burr. Only when he reaches down to rip out the irritation, it is cool and smooth to the touch.

He rolls out of bed, wide awake.

It is a bug. A perfect replica of the one he had found weeks ago. Cypher’s. His fingers spasm around it as he considers the possibility of this belonging to one of the clones—that they would now have the exact location of their base and their prime route. He dismisses the notion a second later, there had been no Cypher-clone fighting on behalf of Kingdom.

Still.

He spends thirty minutes pouring over his clothes, running his fingers over every inch of fabric, checking every seam. He finds another bug in the rolled-up cuff of his sleeve. He places them in the cup of water he had left by his bed, and then goes to take a very long shower on the offhand chance that anything he has missed will be destroyed by prolonged exposure to water. He washes his hair very thoroughly.

An hour later he gets changed into spare workout clothes and hunts down Cypher. 

* * *

It does not take long to find Cypher. He is where he always is; in his workshop, tinkering away at some unrecognizable gadget.

The last dredges of sunlight light up only half of the workshop, leaving Sova partially blind as he walks in. It does not affect his right eye, and he tracks Cypher to the corner of the room immediately. Cypher is sitting with his back facing the door, hunched over some project.

Cypher’s coat is discarded by the doorway, slung over a chair along with his hat. Sova has the rare pleasure of seeing the agent’s hair, loose curls neatly trimmed at the nape of his neck leaving a strip of dark skin visible.

Sova pegs a waterlogged bug at the back of Cypher’s neck and takes no small amount of pleasure in the affronted sound Cypher makes.

The _look_ Cypher shoots him when he turns around makes him bite back a smile.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Cypher huffs.

Cypher’s face is bare. It is not the first time he has seen Cypher mask less, but it is far from a common occurrence. Sova follows the way dark eyes narrow, taking him in—assessing him—and then down to the floor. Cypher leans down, delicately picking up the scrap of broken metal between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah, I see you found something of mine,” Cypher says, rolling the bug between his fingertips. “A pity you could not return it undamaged. These things are expensive you know.”

“My apologies, it is as it was when I found it,” Sova lies. “I would trust you not to lose track of your tech frequently.”

“These things happen,” Cypher dismisses, smiling as though he is granting Sova a favor. It brings out his smile lines, his dimples, the crow’s feet that are only apparent when he grins. Sova isn’t sure just how old Cypher is, but he thinks he cannot be older than forty.

“I will do my best to keep an eye on them, but if you find any lying around please bring them to me. In one piece, preferably.”

Sova does not point out that the bug is still technically in one piece, but by the way Cypher glances down at it he can tell that Cypher is having the same thought.

“I will,” he agrees after a pause.

 _Does he have all of Valorant bugged?_ He wonders but does not ask.

Instead, he crosses the length of the room. He pulls out the second bug and hands it over. Cypher glances down at it and takes the device. His fingers brushing over Sova’s palm as he picks up the broken electronic. The feeling lingers long after Cypher’s hand is gone, and it is a manual effort to make his arm drop.

The look Cypher gives him is far too knowing. It makes Sova feel young, inexperienced.

He leaves.

* * *

He keeps finding them. Placed beneath the cuffs and thicker seams of his clothes. Strategically planted out of sight, in areas he is least likely to find them. It seems that for every bug he finds and destroys, there are three more.

He looks down at the mangled devices in his palm; he is not sure how he feels about this.

He does not bother presenting any more to Cypher after the first set, unsure of what he would say. But certain that Cyphers reaction would be just as ambiguous.

If any of the other agents have noticed the devices, they have not brought it up. But Sova is sure that they must be bugged too. It would not make sense otherwise. He wonders why Cypher is keeping tabs on Valorant and to what end.

He does his best to investigate, however in this he is out of place. He is used to hunting, tracking, identifying smells and sounds of men and beasts with the intent to find and kill. He is not so good at information gathering while keeping a level of plausible deniability.

“Have you spoken to Cypher recently”? he asks Raze from the relative safety of the doorway. He is holding a vending machine pastry in one hand. He hopes it will be sufficient as a bribe.

She turns towards him, lifting her welding helmet with one hand, torch still blazing in her right hand precariously close to her hair. “When the hell did you get there?”

“Good morning Raze, ah- careful of your hand.”

She glances to her side before cutting off the torch and throwing it down on the workbench. “What was that about Cypher?”

“Have you spoken to him recently?”

“About what?” she drawls, “Not really. Cypher won’t let me into his lab since I attached explosives to his cameras. He’s such a wet blanket. Is he avoiding you too or something?”

“Ah, that’s… what are you working on?” he asks instead.

“My greatest and latest BoomBot™!” she says, more than happy to roll with the topic change, grabbing the ball of metal and holding it up to eye level. The screen lights up with a familiar yellow smiling face. It looks exactly the same as every iteration of the bot he has seen. “It has up to a third more explosive power than the previous version. You wanna see?”

“Is it done?”

“Close enough to it,” she laughs, “Come on.”

He follows her to the range and watches as she pegs it out onto the field. It rolls around blindly for a minute before getting itself stuck in a corner. It makes a pained whirring sound as its wheels fail to gain traction off the wall.

“Well that wasn’t supposed to happen,” she hums.

Sova is not sure what to say, so rather than say anything he offers her the pastry. She grabs it, flipping it between her hands with visible confusion on her face.

“Breakfast,” he says after a moment.

“Oh, thanks!”

He does not bother asking her about Cypher again. The opportunity is gone, and he knows the training grounds are recorded and frequently reviewed.

Instead he lets himself act as Raze’s sounding board, nodding along at appropriate lulls in the conversation as she evaluates ideas that mostly go over his head. It is not an unenjoyable way to spend his morning.

* * *

Viper catches him watching her.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

* * *

He finds himself alone with Phoenix two days later purely by accident.

He had been outside, alone, doing nothing other than idly tracking the local game that lived in the surrounding brush. He has his bow and arrows swung over his back, but he had not set off with the thought of capturing a prize. He had just needed to get out of the base, out of that bunker-like structure. He was not used to being inside, surrounded by people, for such long stretches of time. The open sky above his head is a relief. His hand is in his pocket, flimsy metal between his fingertips.

 _Crunch_.

He turns at the sound of footsteps, fast approaching. 

Phoenix looks startled to see him, but he covers the emotion up quickly.

“Huh, I was wondering what you were getting up to when you were pulling your disappearing act. This makes way more sense though.”

“I feel restless inside,” Sova admits.

“Fair enough, bro. We all got things to do. I’m just out here hiking. You know, stress relief, yeah? Never really been to this side of the world you know.”

It is a poor lie, but Sova does not question it. “Yes, the landscape here is unique.”

“Unique, huh. I guess this is pretty different from tundra and shit. Is it that different when it comes down to tracking and stuff? Like, is the skill transferable or do you gotta relearn for different environments or what?”

“There is something of a learning curve when traveling to new areas, but it remains the same skill.”

“Huh, I got you. Were you planning on catching anything today, is that what you do out here? Cuz…”

It is not that Phoenix is not quiet, Sova thinks, only that he has never learnt to be silent. Phoenix will talk indefinitely if given adequate prompting.

“When did you speak to Cypher last?” Sova says, cutting of Phoenix’s external thought process.

Phoenix pauses before responding. “Maybe yesterday, why? What’s up?”

“Have you noticed anything… a-typical in his behaviour?”

“Nah not really. It’s not like we’re tight,” Phoenix shoots him a look that he probably thinks is circumspect, “Did you guys fall out or something?”

Phoenix is a loyal agent, he thinks. Now, is probably the only chance he has to speak plainly with him. He doubts such a golden opportunity will appear again. Not for weeks at the very least.

And yet… he cannot bring himself to pull the broken bug out of his pocket.

“Try and iron it out with him first before bringing it up to Sarge. Otherwise it’s gonna be a mess. And let me know if I need to trash his workshop, yeah? I leave you to do your nature thing. I gotta go, money to collect and all. See ya’.”

Phoenix leaves on that note.

The metal is cool between his fingers.

* * *

He finds himself sitting opposite Viper in the mess hall.

She looks up at him between a mouthful of cereal. It crunches loudly as she chews, her gaze unwavering. She drops her spoon into the empty bowl.

“What?”

He looks away.

* * *

He asks Sage next.

“Yes, he came by for his physical just yesterday,” she looks at Sova consideringly. “In fact, I needed to deliver something to him, but I don’t think I will have time today. Could I get you to run it down to him?”

Sova does not get a chance to respond before she is rummaging through her cabinet and pulling out a box of something. It is brown and nondescript and a little banged up from whichever courier service has handled it. The courier service is most likely Brimstone, he thinks.

“Thanks, you’re a great help,” she smiles.

Sova takes the package wordlessly.

* * *

He knocks on the door of Cypher’s workshop.

“Come in,” he hears.

“I have a package—from Sage.”

“Ah yes, yes. From our lovely healer. She did say she would be sending that today. Please, over here.”

Sova puts the box where directed and then immediately finds himself at a loss. He settles for crossing his arms as he stares at Cypher, who is finishing screwing on the backplate of a camera.

“There we are,” Cypher is wearing his full kit, hat and all. His coat billows out behind him as he stands. He picks up the camera. “What do you think?”

“It’s a camera.” It looks like any other camera of Cypher’s.

“Quite right my friend, it _is_ a camera!”

He watches Cypher physically recoil at the look he gives him.

“It really is just another camera. I tend to go through quite a few of them,” Cypher laughs awkwardly. His body language, his tone, screams nervousness and Sova feels himself relent before he has made the decision to do so. “Though this one does this!”

Cypher clicks a button on the side of the camera and the entire surface of the device goes clear, perfectly mimicking the environment. Sova can only make it out from the way the light reflects off of it.

“Interesting. And what did Sage send you?” Sova asks instead, hoping to smooth over the uneasy atmosphere.

“She didn’t tell you? I suppose it is technically confidential, not that it’s a big deal.” Cypher pulls out a blade. He tosses it in the air, catching it blade down and cuts into the box.

The box is filled with… supplement shakes.

“I’ve been losing a bit of weight recently. It’s been a while since I’ve been this active,” Cypher laughs, “One protein shake per day. Doctors’ orders.”

“Cookies and cream,” Sova reads, peering down at the label.

“Oh! I did ask for cookies and cream when I emailed. I guess Brimstone really does care,” he says, and Sova can picture the smile at his bright tone. “Thank you for the delivery.”

Cypher leans over to pat him on the shoulder. The motion is too gentle to be playful and he finds himself frozen in place. Cypher lingers a little too long—and Sova is struck by how much he wishes Cypher were not wearing his mask right now and—Cypher squeezes his shoulder gently before finally pulling away.

“Did you just plant another bug on me?” Sova sighs.

Cypher laughs, the sound slightly distorted by the mask. “Sometimes a touch is just a touch.”

“That’s not a _no_.”

* * *

He runs into Viper as he walks down the corridor. He drops the hand that had been against his shoulder, pressing against the area Cypher had touched.

She looks up at him from her clipboard. The plastic creaks menacingly in her hands. “ _What_?”

“Nothing,” he does not scurry away.

* * *

“Spike defused,” Killjoy says over the intercom.

“It is done,” he mutters. It is cold enough he can see his breath with every word. Icebox is dreadfully cold even by Sova’s standards. He misses his old coat; it would have done him well here.

“Well done,” Cypher emerges from his vantage point around the cargo crate, vandal still in hand. He is missing his hat, and Sova can’t help but stare at the odd black plastic mask that wraps around over his head and down his neck. “Give me a moment to pack up shop and we’ll be on our way.”

“Cypher?” His voice says.

Sova freezes. He had not spoken. He whips around towards the noise that had come from somewhere behind him. Only to still immediately at the feel of a gun pressing against his skull, the barrel is uncomfortably warm.

He imagines what stands behind him: a perfect copy staring down at him with disgust.

“Cypher. Why are you entertaining this imposter,” his own voice hisses.

“Now this is quite the dilemma,” Cypher says, gun at the ready.

“I didn’t know your kind could speak,” Sova keeps his voice level.

“Заткни пасть,” the clone spits. That was a nice touch, he thinks. And wonders why it has not put a bullet through his brain yet. It is what he would have done.

“This is quite an interesting development. Should we capture the clone for questioning or kill it? We’ve never caught a live one before. Maybe it can provide the answers I seek?” Cypher tilts his head. “But we can’t allow a precedent of mercy.”

Sova feels dread twisting in his gut. Had Cypher really lost track of him through the confrontation that easily? He closes his eyes and feels the air shift as the body behind him relaxes. The clone thinks that it has succeeded. It will kill him any second now. Surely. He braces himself, waiting for the moment to spring—if he can kick out it’s legs then there is a chance-

The gunshot rips through the air.

He waits for the pain, only… he hears the body collapse behind him. His eyes snap open, falling on the smoking barrel of Cypher’s gun.

“You’re surprised,” Cypher states, voice a-typically flat. He lets the gun fall back to his side as he walks forward. “Did you think that I would actually shoot you?”

“I-“ Sova’s voice fails him, and he swallows dryly.

“Maybe I have been too subtle.” Cypher reaches out to gently cup his cheek with a gloved hand. It is freezing against his bare skin, but everything here is freezing.

“How could I mistake you for a clone my dear? When you are lit up like a constellation in my _eyes_.”

Cypher pulls his hand away and Sova can see a bug—filched off his own person—between his fingers. Cypher brings it up to his face, parallel to where his lips would be beneath the mask and brushes it against the front of his face plate. A mimicry of a kiss.

Sova doesn’t have the chance to respond, not that he could think well enough to put two words together, before Cypher turns on his heel. He watches Cypher walk away, one arm reaching up to remotely collect a camera from above them. He can barely make out Cyphers voice, echoing in his ear over the intercom calling for backup.

Sova’s face is burning and not from the cold.

* * *

When he returns to the base, he finds himself in a daze as he wanders down the corridors in the vague direction of his room. Viper pulls him aside, taking him to her lab and produces a bottle of American branded vodka.

He meets her eyes and her sullen expression sours further.

“What?”

The vodka is disgusting.

**Author's Note:**

> Who the fuck is Nora??


End file.
